


echoes you can feel

by twosetmeridian



Series: twosetweek season 2 [1]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Alternate Professions, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Romance, canon compliant to real life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosetmeridian/pseuds/twosetmeridian
Summary: "what is most important in your life?" "finding a purpose that's greater than yourself."in which eddy becomes many things, but they all circle back to one brett yang.for twosetweek day 1; prompt: memories + careers.(a spiritual twinsequel toa city that dreams for two.)
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: twosetweek season 2 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713253
Comments: 13
Kudos: 136





	echoes you can feel

**Author's Note:**

> title from _find you_ by zedd.

• • •

once upon a time, eddy had wanted to become a lumberjack.

he's never actually gone through with it, and thank god, because _that_ would've been a disaster, really, but the fact remains, the central force behind every career choice he's ever taken up in this life—

he's only ever wanted to become brett yang's _anything_.

• • •

( _what is most important in your life_ , they ask in the interview, polite and vaguely curious.

 _finding a purpose that's greater than yourself_ , he answers, leaning forward so he doesn't have to see his best friend's face and whatever he might think of eddy's response.

he doesn't mention that he thinks he's already found it.)

• • •

eddy's first profession isn't _musician_ , but rather _teacher_.

"what the fuck," the person beside him hisses under his breath, his glasses askew as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair, fingers all smudged with charcoal dust. eddy's halfway through solving the equation, but the stormy rain cloud hovering over the seat next to him tugs his attention away.

it's a friday evening, and he's stuck in math tutoring. he's damn well entitled to a little diversion.

"hey," he nudges the bespectacled boy with the tip of his pencil, "you okay?"

dark eyes meet his own, and it's like a thunderclap, that point of contact, no matter how intangible. eddy has to bodily repress the urge to shiver, all of a sudden. the other kid doesn't seem to notice. "yeah, just peachy." he rolls his eyes, gestures towards his paper; there are more scribbles than solutions. "math just isn't my strong suit, i guess."

here's the kicker: eddy's not exactly a saint at heart. he's not inclined to charity, especially towards strangers. something feels different, though—before he knows what he's doing, he's inching his chair nearer and elbowing wayward limbs out of the way so he can peer at the other's worksheet. "need some help with those?"

and so begins an unlikely friendship, birthed over algebraic pains of all things. between solving for variables and coefficients, eddy learns the other boy— _brett_ , his name is _brett_ —plays violin too, with strict asian parents to boot. for the very first time, he laughs himself sick while answering math questions, and maybe he feels a little bit accomplished when brett's eyes sparkle behind the veneer of his glasses and he starts penning down answers by himself.

"cool, alright," brett says goodbye after with a handshake that leaves his skin all tingly, "i hate my life, but i'll see you next week!"

and eddy had thought it might've been the end of _that_ , with the chances of them meeting again possibly very low if he pulls out from tutoring like he's planned, but.

they do see each other again the very next day, in orchestra.

he doesn't want to brag, not at all, but he's a quick study, even moreso than brett. he joins in the flow of the symphony with relative ease, affixing his cog into the grand orchestral machine like it's no big deal, and so once again, when a stormy rain cloud of confusion hangs itself over his deskie, eddy offers to teach him.

"need help?"

looking up from his chicken-scratch notations on the sheetstand, brett hesitates for a second. "fuck it. yes, please." eddy gets a pencil shoved in his face, and he grins wide for the rest of the day.

• • •

he'd aspired to become a doctor, once.

it had all been his parents' idea in the first place, and he had been so desperate to please at the time that it hadn't occurred to him that he could in fact say no. he hadn't been able to, until his sister had intervened with a stern lecture and a promise to drag him to the queensland conservatorium at the very first opportunity.

also, brett had just come out of a spectacular standoff against his own parents relatively unscathed, so. he figures he could try and do _that_ too.

still, preparations for a medical career do have their benefits, even when said medical career is now rendered null. brett's down with the flu, and with his family away from home on a trip, it falls to eddy to keep him company. he cooks chicken soup, gets a bucket of water and a washcloth ready by the bed, lays out cough syrup and pain relievers on the table like he's done it a million times before.

he's never done _this_ before, but taking care of brett, well: that's muscle memory.

"doctor chen, you're a lifesaver," brett announces dramatically, swooning onto the bedcovers like a fainting maiden. after spooning hot soup into his mouth, he pauses, head tilted as a smirk curls itself faint on his lips. "you sure you don't wanna be a doctor?"

eddy snorts. "yeah, right. i'd rather be a musician than a doctor any day."

 _and i'd follow you anywhere, so what else can i do_ , though he doesn't say _that_.

• • •

when twoset is born through various music video covers, he picks up enough about the nuances of melodies that he becomes a music arranger of sorts. he wouldn't go so far as to name himself a composer, but it's a near thing.

they take turns picking the songs they make covers of—brett delves into his favorite television shows and movies for soundtracks; eddy goes and takes some tunes from his personal playlist.

so: maybe the lyrics of the songs he chooses are a little cheesy. call him sappy. whatever. the words aren't a big deal at all. the melodies would sound awesome with violins, he argues, so why not?

these are what he chooses:

 _and there's no stopping us right now, i feel so close to you right now_ melds seamlessly with _i could be the one to make you feel that way, i could be the one to set you free_ —their friend pipi at the piano, the two of them at the strings.

 _where are we, what the hell is going on_ , the notes all grey-washed as they lean against iron fences, and perhaps it means something else, something entirely different, _the dust has only just begun to fall._

 _something what my heart truly wants_ , float the unspoken words over the waters of the river, the wind rustling through their hair as they play seated on a park bench, _and no one will ever see you the way my eyes do._

 _i wouldn't worry, you have all the love_ , eddy plays the chords into an empty room at the con, the scene all black and white and somber, _i've heard it takes some time to get it right._

 _as long as i am with you_ , croons jess glynne as they film themselves and the video editing process, laughing in the practice rooms and walking together outside in the early morning hours, _my heart continues to beat._

 _i've been playing myself, baby, i don't care_ , as they dance in car parks and empty auditoriums and hold each other's gazes for hilariously long moments, _'cause your love's got the best of me_.

brett had given him a funny look when eddy offered up that last choice months and months after what could've been a solid valentines day video, but he hasn't said anything about it. which is—good. yes. good. he's not entirely sure about it himself, really, so he wouldn't have had a ready answer if he _did_ get asked about it.

• • •

he becomes somewhat of a fitness trainer with all the zumba and yoga moves he's learned for the violin exercise videos, but hey, it makes his ass look great, so he isn't complaining.

(if he turns heads when he walks down the street, that's a given. if brett stares at him for a few seconds longer than is necessary, that's a bonus.)

• • •

being an actor has never crossed his mind before, but with all the skits they start filming, eddy goes from being just-eddy to suddenly attaining a dozen or so characters under his repertoire. he takes on their personas, gives them life: edwina and her sass, the tiger mom and her ferocity, the viola king and his suaveness, countless music professors and their perfectionism.

brett holds fast to the character of ling ling aside from a few throwaway personalities, and yeah, alright. at least eddy can tease him about practicing 40 hours a day.

it's interesting, how easily he slips into the shoes of someone else, like they're just another side to him he's never discovered before. and that may be, but he much prefers just being himself.

(it has nothing to do with the way brett had yanked off the blonde wig after edwina's turn in the spotlight, nothing to do with the way he had peeled off the viola king's robes like a drill instructor, which is—not a bad image.

god. anyway.

"i prefer seeing _you_ , moron," he complains like eddy isn't in fact hanging on to his every word right then and there, "and not somebody else. they don't exist; _you_ do."

and really, when you're most loved as yourself—well. it's easy to shuck off those shoes that aren't yours.)

• • •

eddy has always been a musician.

key word: _musician_ , not _soloist_. there's a difference. he had wanted to become a soloist before, back at the con; he's even said so in his orientation week, albeit with blushing shyness, because really, the knowing grins he spots in the crowd aren't doing wonders for his composure.

the thing is, he's lost all interest in individualistic fame the very first moment brett looks across the table from him at the conservatory: an enterprising look in his eyes, the beginnings of that crazy idea—of twoset violin—hanging in the air between them.

(he thinks: _oh no, i'm definitely not going to be a soloist._ )

(he spends half a second mourning for what could never be, and then thinks: _it's all fine_. _brett's here, and so am i. we can make this work._ )

(and so they did.)

• • •

of all the professions he's ever taken up, there's only ever been one above all others.

"i'll always be there for you," brett tells him under a blanket of stars. "i'll bring you everywhere. anywhere you want. just like i promised."

eddy leans towards the warmth enveloping him, and he's never done this—has never had this kind of unshakeable devotion taking root in his chest before, but being brett's best friend, well: that's muscle memory.

"i'll hold you to that, bro," he says in reply, a promise lurking beneath his words.

his heart feels too big for his body, his hands feel like they can carry the world, and his head feels like everything is spinning around the central point of them. just the two of them, twoset violin. two sets of hearts and hands and heads, ready to take this rollercoaster out for the ride of a lifetime.

(it's not quite love, this feeling, but it's something close. getting closer, soon.)

"together?"

"together."

(well. they have time to figure this all out.)

**Author's Note:**

> [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0z4GBCQed4) to the interview mentioned in the story.
> 
> lyrics taken from twoset cover songs, namely:  
> feel so close - calvin harris  
> i could be the one - avicii vs nicky romero  
> hide and seek - imogen heap  
> coffee - yuna  
> wasting my younger years - london grammar  
> rather be - clean bandit  
> crazy in love - beyonce


End file.
